


i need you

by Lilyture



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol, Don't copy to another site, Dreams, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 01:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17255468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyture/pseuds/Lilyture
Summary: You're not supposed to fall for your best friend, especially when he's too good for you anyway. Even if Craig Tucker was gay, which he certainly isn't, there was no way he'd ever have eyes for Tweek.Right?





	i need you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [znows](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=znows).



> SECRET...CREEK...
> 
> God I love these dumb bois. Also this prompt. "I'd love them being dumb boys that don't believe the other actually likes them, but overcoming miscommunication in the end."
> 
> I usually write in Craig's POV, but decided to go with Tweek this round because why not amirite.

“So everybody knows what they’re doing?” Clyde asked. Even with the streetlights, Tweek could barely see Clyde darting his eyes around their little group. “Token?”

“Clyde, dude, your plan isn’t that complicated.” Token broke away from the heat of their breaths mixing in their way-too-close huddle. Clyde reeled him back in. “We don’t need to go over it. Again.”

“Just give me a quick rundown of your job.” Token protested in silence so that the only noise were the crickets and the booms of the stereos inside the houe behind them.

“This is stupid,” Craig said, Token nodding in agreement.

“Wow, man. This is all to help you.” Clyde clutched the chest of his letterman’s, voice packed with fake devastation. “I can’t believe you would do me like this.”

“Fuck you.”

“M-maybe it’s better if w-w-we stay out of it?”

“Jimmy, dude, how many times are we going to let Craig fuck up his relationships?” Like a ballerina, Clyde twirled in a circle but used his heel instead of his toes. With his head lolling side to side and his eyes rolling up to the moon, he sighed, “Obviously he needs help. First Nelly, then Heidi, now Wendy? She’s, like, the second hottest girl at school!” In typical sassy-Clyde fashion, he planted his hands on his hips. Tweek’s eye twitched. “I’m not letting him fuck this up.”

“And what does Craig think about all this?” Token asked, nodding in said friend’s direction.

“I think it’s stupid.”

“He thinks it’s stupid.”

“Token, bro-” Clyde said, smiling all too wide. “Shut up.” He glared at each of his friends: first to Token, then Jimmy, then Craig, and finally Tweek. “Friends help friends with their girl problems.” Tweek squirmed. Clyde’s eyes flicked back to Craig, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. Tweek thought his face was so goddamn punchable then. “Now are you gonna talk to her or not?”

“If she wants to break up, then whatever.” Craig shrugged. “I’m not gonna stop her.”

“No one’s asking for a miracle broski, but,” Clyde threw his hands up in the air, “you should at least try to fix things!” Dramatic as fuck, like always. Tweek rolled his eyes.

“What the hell am I supposed to be fixing exactly?”

“Dude.” Now it was Token’s turn to look at Craig with his classic “really?” expression (which made Clyde smug). “C’mon.”

“That told me nothing.” Craig took off his blue chullo to run a hand through his hair, but kept his eyes on Token, even as he plopped the hat back on.

“Nichole said Wendy said the dates were bad.”

“Didn’t know you gossiped, Token,” Craig snorted. “You get your nails done too?” He shrugged again, letting his eyes roam upwards along the nightsky where the stars could easily snag his attention. Token, silent, watched Craig with narrowed eyes and drawn eyebrows.

“What?” Craig apparently caught him and stared back. Weird how a one-word sentence can make things tense as fuck.

“What?” Token parroted, frowning.

“You were giving me a look.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Y-y-yes you were.” Jimmy said, nodding.

“You totally were, dude,” Clyde jumped in, nose crinkled mischeviously. “What was that about?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking," Token replied, pulling one corner of his mouth to the side. 

“So you admit you were giving a look!" Clyde smiled like an imp. 

“Clyde, goddammit, shut up.”

Tweek watched them, eyes following the speaker as they bickered. His hands fidgeted in his pockets, fingertips gripping the lining and twisting it around so hard he worried it might tear. Every once in a while, he’d pull out his phone just enough to glance at the time. They’d parked the car at the corner of the street half an hour ago but they were still outside Nichole’s house with the party already underway. Whatever. The churning of his stomach told him he should’ve stayed home.

He looked up. Token and Cyde bickered back and forth with Jimmy butting in here and there. Craig looked ever so slightly annoyed, but Tweek thought he must be satisfied that the attention was off him for now. He watched Craig drag his eyes bck up to the sky. His dark hair stuck out from the chullo like crow feathers swept to the left. He watched Craig’s eyes dance from one constellation to the next When Craig thought to himself, like now, Tweek noticed he’d sometimes run his tongue along his teeth so his lips would bulge in half-circles.

Craig suddenly looked his way and they made eye contact. Craig half-smiled in a “the fuck is this shit?” kind of way and Tweek couldn’t help but grin back. He thought about shuffling over to him so they coud whisper shit about how dumb this night was going to be. Before he could, a hand was waving in front of his face.

“Tweek?”

“AGH! The hell?”

“Could you two stop playing footsie?” Clyde groaned, hands covering his eyes. Craig immediately went to his phone. Tweek’s shoulders sagged. “Your job. What is your job?”

“I, uh, I...” Tweek looked back down the driveway. “Actually, I think I’m, ngh, gonna head home.”

“Dude we haven’t even gotten inside yet. The fuck?”

“You feeling alright?” Token asked, shoving Clyde’s face.

“Yeah, fine, just... tired.”

“You’re always tired.” Clyde scowled at him like he’d thrown a kink into his master plan. As if Craig needed a lookout anyway. Besides, he doubted Craig and Wendy wanted him to be around when they were trying to make up. He felt some of the stitches in his pocket snap. “I was gonna try to hook you up with Nelly, man! You can’t go.”

“What? AGH, man, I don’t want to date Nelly!”

“Oh my god. How are we all going to quintuple date if you-” Clyde jutted his pointer at Craig- “won’t keep a relationship and you-” now at Tweek- “won’t even start one?”

Craig flipped him off. Tweek started tugging at his jacket collar and looked anywhere but Clyde. Sometimes if you ignored him he’d shut up. Or throw a tantrum. Really it’s kind of like a gamble at this point, might as well start taking bets.

“M-m-maybe let go of the quintuple date idea?” Jimmy suggested. “It’s a stupid idea anyway.” Silly Jimmy. As if Clyde would just willingly let go of his plan.

“No! We’re doing this. We’ve got all this year and senior year.” Clyde nodded to himself. “Yeah, we can do this.” He whipped around to Token. “Okay, you distract Marsh so he doesn’t try to butt his way in again. Tweek,” Clyde said, looking over at him, “just stay for a while. Please?”

“Five minutes.”

“Jesus Christ, okay, five minutes.”

Finally satisfied, Clyde marched up to the front door and everyone followed. Nichole’s house had this little elongated porch. The kind old people like to put rocking chairs on to smoke under the shade and watch people walk by. Whoever made it was either stupid or masterfully evil though, because he (or she) made the second step smaller than the first. Distracted, Tweek momentarily forgot and stumbled. In an attempt to right his balance, his right foot pushed onto the step too hard and he went backwards on his ass.

Or, he woud have, but he was stopped only about one fourth of the way down. He glanced up to see Craig looking down at him. Butterflies bounced around in his stomach.

“You alright?” Craig asked. Tweek nodded and righted himself.

“Just forgot the step,” he said.

“You really are tired. We don’t have to inside, you know,” Craig said, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. “We can go back to your place and hang out instead.”

“What? No!” Clyde whined behind him followed by a satisfying slap.

“I’m fine,” he said, hopping back up the steps.

Craig followed. “You sure?”

No. He wasn’t sure, not sure at all. He wished they could hop in Craig’s car and just get away from this party, all this noise, all these people.

Away from Wendy.

Guilt strangled his insides. He refused to be the reason Craig didn’t have a girlfriend. Despite all the bullshit buzzing around in his head, he smiled. “Jesus, man, I’m fine.”

It was supposed to be lighthearted. The tension in Craig’s brow, small a detail as it may be, didn’t lessen any.

Potential ER visist postponed, Clyde knocked twice. He tried going for a third but, almost as if she’d been standing there waiting, Nichole opened up the door, grinning ear to ear. “Who rolled this barrel of sugar up my porch?”

“Babe, don’t inflate his ego,” Token said, closing his eyes. Clyde beamed and Nichole laughed.

“C’mon in, guys. You’re all so late, what gives?”

“Clyde,” everyone chimed.

“We’re gonna help Craig win Wendy back,” Clyde said.

Nichole smiled, but the dimples in her cheeks shallowed. Tweek caught her flash a look at Token before she ruffled Clyde’s hair. “Well aren’t you just sweet?” Then to Craig, “I saw her in the living room last.”

Craig nodded and meandered down the hall, tossing over his shoulder, “Thanks.”

Clyde stared at Token. Token stared back.

Then Token sighed. “Babe, where’s Stan?”

“Backyard with Kyle. Why?” she asked, tossing their coats in one of those small side rooms that never seemed to have a purpose other than to decorate with countless knicknacks. The Daniels household chose a collection of ceramic teddybears doing mundane human shit. Tweek was baffled that anyone thought they were a worthy investment. Someone literally saw one and thought, “You know what? An entire room full of these things would be the shit.”

“Clyde,” Token said, snapping Tweek out of his fixation on Nichole’s family’s unheatlhy teddy bear obsession. She laughed again and, grabbing his elbow, they traced Craig’s footsteps. Jimmy was next, mentioning that Cassandra was already waiting for him, having made clear he didn’t intend to be part of Clyde’s little match up system. Speaking of Clyde, he was texting someone, probably Red.

While Clyde tapped on his phone and the speakers nearly shook the walls, Tweek began his creep to the front door.

“I’m going,” he announced and shimmied behind Clyde to the front door. Clyde, always good on his feet, shot around and beat him there, flattening himself against it.

“You said five minutes!”

“It’s almost been five minutes!”

“Craig’s your best friend, you’re supposed to be helping!” Clyde pouted. He could be annoying, but Clyde was a good guy. A big heart. But the thought of helping Craig get back together with Wendy?

Well, fuck that.

The seed of guilt that he sowed in his gut years ago had sprouted and its vines and roots squirmed through his intestines and flipped and nudged his stomach to the point that he felt kind of nauseous. He should be helping. He should want Craig and Wendy to be happy. Should but didn’t.

“C’mon, man, at least party a little?” Clyde frowned, now pushing him away from the door and down the hall. “You’ve been acting pissy for a while. You need to relax.”

“I’m going home. Now.” He pushed back and Clyde stumbled back onto the door.

“Go to the kitchen,” Clyde begged, gripping the doorframe like it might prevent Tweek from prying him right off. “Drink a beer. Talk to people.” Clyde bent his neck back so it looked like it might snap right here in the hall. “If you still wanna go home after that, then fine. Please?”

“GOD. Fine!”

“Yay!” Clyde grinned and continued to push Tweek into the kitchen. Maybe Clyde was right. Maybe he could just forget about tonight’s bullshit and try to have fun.

A couple of people had already claimed spots in the Daniels’ kitchen. Kenny, for example, was perched on the stove, using his pinky finger to enlarge the hole on his left knee in his blue jeans. He grinned at both of them. “’Bout time the Dono-Man showed up. Was wondering if this was gonna be a real party or not.”

“Damn right,” Clyde said as he ducked into the fridge and pulled out two beers. “Bring any fine ladies tonight?”

“Nope,” Kenny laughed. Kenny had the kind of laugh that made you want to smile. Except for tonight. “Maybe I’ll bring one or two back with me though.”

“Gross,” Red said as she walked into the room. She ran her hands through her hair like a set of combs so that it sashayed across her shoulders. She shook her head when Clyde offered her a can who instead tossed it to Tweek. “Where’ve you been?”

“Giving Craig a pep talk,” Clyde said as he leaned onto the fridge door.

Tweek rolled his eyes. The freezing can was already slick with a thin film of condensation. He popped the tab and took a sip, trying to keep as little contact with the can and his lips as possible. Awful. Tasted and looked like piss. He’d rather be back to guzzling thermos after thermos of his father’s strongest brew. His nose wrinkled at the thought.

“Pep talk?” Kenny asked.

“Yeah. He’s gonna save his relationship with Wendy tonight.”

Music boomed and the beat deafened the conversations floating in from the living room. Kenny hummed over the roar of the speakers, legs swinging, heels hitting the front of the oven with each shockwave of bass that pounded with the beat. The ivory fluorescent lights above them were enough to induce cramping in the corner of where his eye met his nose, nevermind the dedibel levels. Kenny stopped his humming and picked up his voice over the crashing waves. “What do you think, Tweekster?”

“About what?” Tweek’s eyes pinned to Kenny’s, which were deadset on his face.

“Them. Together.”

“They seem happy, I guess?”

“Huh.” Kenny swirled his beer and said nothing for a moment. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

“What do you mean?” Clyde craned his neck around Red to get a better look at him. Red rolled her eyes. Lots of eyerolling tonight, Tweek noted.

“He means their relationship is doomed,” she sighed, pulling out her phone from her left back pocket.

Clyde pouted, lip jutting out probably a good foot from his face like a toddler when their mom wouldn’t allow them to swallow a penny they picked up off the floor. “Nu-uh. He’s still got a shot.”

“He doesn’t want a shot, Clyde.” Red’s thumb, painted a matte navy blue, flicked across the phonescreen. She managed to look away long enough from Twitter to spare her boyfriend a look.

“You don’t know that, babe.”

“I’m his cousin. We shared pacifiers. I do know that.” Her glossy lips pursed and her eyebrows arched. “I’m surprised you don’t.”

“He never told me he didn’t want to be with her,” Clyde said, scuffing the tiles on the floor with his red sneakers with the tops torn and the sole just barely holding on. He glanced at Tweek, stationed near the pantry door, which, conveniently, was next to the doorway. “He ever tell you, Tweek?”

“No.” Wouldn’t have Craig just said that? If he really didn’t want to get back together with Wendy, he would’ve just flipped Clyde off and ended the plan right there. Still, the confidence in Red’s voice, the unwavering and firm tone that all Tuckers seemed to share regardless of how else their voices differed, soothed the worry brewing in his insides. Guilt made it froth and bubble again.

He’s your friend.

“Hmm.” Kenny grinned again. “Wonder why that is...”

“Yeah, really. Why wouldn’t he trust us?” Clyde squinted and put his hand on his chin like he was a detective on some informative murder porn.

Kenny’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. “God, Dono-Man. I love you, never change, but jeez.”

“I’ll say,” Red added. Her lips pulled into an amused smile.

“Hey!” Clyde put his hands up and pushed an invisible wall towards his attackers. “Apparently I’m just not as psychic as the rest of you.”

Kenny voice tinkled into a laugh. “Dude, c’mon. It’s not that hard to see.”

“See what?” Tweek asked. Curiosity killed the cat. From Clyde, both Red and Kenny looked at him. Red’s green eyes narrowed and her smile morphed from genuinity to tight-lipped. Kenny’s eyes drifted away and fogged over a moment. After a moment of him pondering, Kenny seemed to reach a decision.

“Tweekster, I like you. And even if he isn’t my biggest fan, I like Fucker-Tucker too.” He pushed himself off the counter and stretched, pulling his back by reaching towards the ceiling. “So, I’m gonna give you a big hint.”

Clyde reached over and smacked Kenny’s gut before urgently gesturing to the doorway near the pantry. Everyone, except Kenny (who clutched the gut that Clyde had pretty much sucker punched and remained doubled-over), followed his direction.

Right outside of a doorway, diagonal from Tweek, was the base of the stairs. He couldn’t see her, but Tweek could see an arm cloaked in Wendy’s favorite shade of purple with a hold on Craig’s wrist. Craig glanced in his direction. Tweek met his eyes for a moment but blinked them away. When he looked back over they were gone. Clyde slapped Kenny, still hunched over, on the shoulder, looking smug as hell again. “See? Told you,” he snickered. “Now, who was wrong?”

Red sighed, “Still you.”

Tweek set his half-empty can on the counter and wiped his hand free of its sweat. As Red and Clyde bickered, he snuck out the doorway and to the front door.

Clyde might as well have smacked him instead. The worry he’d kept under control itched the back of his mind. He counted the steps it took to get the front door, then how many to get off the porch. That was as far as he got until the door wooshed behind him.

“Tweekster, where ya goin’?” Kenny called, door clicking, and the sound of Kenny’s old combat boots clopped down the steps.

“Home.”

“Why?”

“Tired.”

He wanted to tell Kenny to fuck off, but Kenny had an annoying habit of pestering people. Maybe it was that hero complex of his. Even after all this time, he couldn’t let the Mysterion thing go. All Tweek wanted was to go home, sleep, and just forget about tonight. He wanted to move on from what felt like ants marching around in his stomach.

Kenny walked with him, practically kicking at Tweek’s heels he was so close, until the end of the block. “Dude, come back inside.”

“Tired.”

“Drunk. Happy. Sad.”

Tweek squinted at Kenny like he was stupid.

“I thought we were playing a word game.” Kenny grinned, his freckles catching the light of the street lamps. That was probably supposed to make him laugh, but Tweek didn’t feel like laughing. He kept walking but Kenny grabbed his sleeve.

Tweek jerked it back, grabbing a fistful of Kenny’s orange jacket. Kenny was wide-eyed for a moment, but his happy-go-lucky attitude came right back. Tweek released him.

“Tweek,” Kenny grabbed his shoulder, “listen, it’s hard to see where you’re standing right now. But from the outside looking in, it’s not that bad.” He sort of half-grinned. Yeah, as if any type of smile coming from Stan’s group was reassuring. “You’ve just gotta be...” Kenny tutted like his tongue was filing through the words in his brain, the right corner of his mouth pulling to the left, “bolder.”

“What?” Tweek wrinkled his nose.

“Craig’s like a goddamn statue. His face hardly moves. His sister’s the same when she comes over to visit Karen.” Kenny fished through his pockets and pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds. He whacked the end of it on the inside of his wrist as he half-sat on the fire-hydrant. Tweek was pretty sure that had to be uncomfortable. “Can’t express, probably can’t read expressions. You’ve just gotta tell him everything.” His candy skull lighter fwipped and ignited. He lit the end of his cigarette and dragged smoke. “He’s not gonna pick up on subtle shit.”

Tweek felt the heat on his neck and how it rose up to his cheeks. “You’re, ngh, not making any sense. I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

Kenny watched him, blank. “Like hell you don’t.”

Without another word, Tweek stalked off. Kenny didn’t chase after him, but he shouted, “BOLDER.”

The streetlights never helped much, considering half of them were burnt out. The ones still lit flickered. The street looked like it was lined with pole-thin creatures, hunched over, observing the dark streets. The mayor, elected once again despite all of the complaints against her, had been busy putting tax money into shit that didn’t fix their lights or the potholes. Few clouds hung in the sky, so the moon provided enough light for him to see enough so he didn’t fall and crack his skull open.

Counting steps weren’t enough now. The worries that he managed to stifle at Nichole’s were running wild.

What did Kenny know anyway?

Apparently enough to realize he’d fallen head over heels for Craig.

He winced. Fuck. This wasn’t some dramatic rom-com where he’d confess and Craig would magically turn from straight to gay to give him a happy ending. Sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.

Who’d want to be with a nervous mess like him anyway?

That was the one. That was the thought that tore the whole dam down. His head started spouting all the terrible little “what-if’s” and “could be's” at once, like a flood that wipes out everything in its path and leaves a wreck in its wake.

What if Craig found out? What if Kenny told him? What if Craig didn’t want to be friends anymore? Finding out one of your friends is gay is one thing, finding out they’re crushing on you is another.

Craig wouldn’t find out. And Kenny wouldn’t tell him that. Not counting Butters, Kenny had to be the nicest in his friend group (though that didn’t say a whole lot). Regardless, Kenny wasn’t an asshole.

But what if Kenny ends up drinking too much and lets it slip? What if HE drinks too much and confesses to Craig?

No. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Craig wouldn’t believe Kenny and he can just avoid drinking around Craig. Problem solved.

What if someone else finds out? What if Craig finds out and he laughs-

STOP.

He pressed his palms to his temples and grit his teeth. The spaces in between his fingers gripped his hair tugged gently. It would pass. His amygdala would shut the fuck up any moment now and he’d ignore the sick feeling in his stomach and pretend everything was fine. He’d feel better after sleeping.

They were best friends. Why’d he have to fall for his best friend?

He counted his steps again in his head, this time aggressively. Whenever a what-if popped into his head, he just counted through it until it died under the weight of numbers building in his mind. By the time he reached his front door, his anxiety had simmered back down. He took in a deep breath from the night’s crisp air and exhaled with it the last of the dread pooling in his stomach.

Now he just felt empty. And tired.

The doorknob clanged and he groaned. Considering his dad had a bad habit of forgetting that his son wasn’t home and that he shouldn’t lock the goddamn door until he got an extra key made, Tweek wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t willing to wake up his parents though. He and his dad didn’t get along too well anymore every since Tweek had stopped drinking coffee a few years ago despite the fact that he didn’t twitch as much. His dad was more concerned with how it made the business look.

Tweek hopped the wood fence into his backyard and climbed up the old white oak. That was the easy part. A combination of boxing and football made him strong enough to pull himself up branch after branch.

And while boxing especially was keen on balance, it wasn’t really the same as when you’re clinging to your window trying to open it. Three to four shakes left and right, one hard push in, and the window slid up. The lock not being secure was fuel for his anxiety, but since Craig was the only other one that knew how to open it this way, this breach in security didn’t usually cause it to flare. He dropped off the branch and pulled himself over the sill and into his warm bedroom. He thudded against the carpet and lay there for a moment, wondering if he really needed to get into bed. Maybe he could just lie right there and doze off.

After pushing himself back up, he shut and locked the window. He fell onto his mattress, kicked off his shoes into the darkness, and curled up underneath the covers. No thoughts. He just closed his eyes and let his mind stare into the void until he finally drifted off to sleep.

At some point, he heard the whir of plastic sliding on plastic. He held his breath then sat straight as a pin. A shadow sat in the window.

“...Craig?”

“Hey,” Craig said, hushed, as he swung his legs over the sill. “Clyde said you left.”

Tweek watched him slide the window back down and lock it back up. “What about Wendy?”

Craig sat down on the corner of the bed and untied his gray converse. “What about her?”

God, sometimes he wondered how he could stand to talk to Craig. It was like pulling teeth. “Did she break up?”

Craig hooked two fingers into the heels of his shoes and tossed them somewhere in the dark. Maybe his and Craig’s shoes could keep each other company. Craig scooted up the bed next to him. He shuffled to give him his side of the bed. They said nothing for a moment and then Tweek heard the sheets ruffle and Craig’s fingers brush over his. “Actually,” Craig said, his hand sliding over and gripping Tweek’s, “I broke up with her.”

Tweek’s heart thumped and his hands twitched. He tried to keep the jitters out of his voice, “Why?”

“Because.” Craig’s voice was soft. He could have sworn that Craig was getting closer, leaning into him. “Tweek, I think I like you.”

His stomach quivered. The words danced around in his head, made him think all sorts of thoughts. He was close, so close that he felt the breath of Craig’s words tickle the skin on his cheek. His fingers skimmed along Craig’s arm while some thrill, some excitement, overtook him, pushing him forward to close the distance between their lips.

Craig jumped off the bed. “Dude, what the fuck?!”

He froze.

“Dude, did you just kiss me?!”

Tweek opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He felt like he was choking on empty space. Craig jumped off the bed and flicked the lights on.

“You, uh, you said-”

“I was joking?” Craig wiped at his mouth with the base of his thumb. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Hot acid burned through his stomach as he watched Craig who, for a moment, did nothing but stare at the floor. He felt the weight of shame crushing him, but he was too scared to let it squeeze him into a ball of self-loathing and embarassment.

Finally, Craig headed for the window and, despite everything telling him otherwise, Tweek jumped up after him.

“Craig, listen-”

“I gotta go.”

“I’m sorry. Craig, please, just listen-” he begged. One stupid move. It took only one stupid move to lose his best friend, to lose the person he cared about the most, an act that took less than a second.

“Don’t touch me,” Craig spat as he flung up the window. “You’re fucking gross.”

He said nothing, standing in a mixture of shock and embarassment and fear as he watched Craig climb halfway back outside. Craig paused, deciding now to look back up and meet Tweek’s gaze with a glare.

“Were you just my friend to try and get in my pants or something?”

“What?” The words might as well have struck him physically the way he reeled. “N-no, Jesus, Craig-! I didn’t even think... I didn’t really think you’d ever...”

Craig snorted. “At least you realize you had no chance in hell, as a big of a fucking mess you are.”

Tweek clammed up, jaw set so hard he’d probably break his teeth. His throat hurt but he swallowed the lump back down. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, fuck off.” Craig swung his other leg to face outside. Numbly, Tweek reached for his shoulder. Craig caught his hand.

“I said fuck off.” And he gave Tweek a hard shove and he fell, tumbling down onto the floor with a hard thud and-

Tweek opened his eyes and sunlight stung his retinas. He scrambled around in his bedsheet cocoon, fighting for freedom, and, once his limbs had burst out of various openings, he sat up. The sun was just now beginning to peek over the horizon. He stared at the chaos littered across the floorboards, the nightmare already beginning to fade to the back of his mind. The details were getting harder to recall with each passing second as his waking brain clocked into work. His heart quivered in his chest.

He remembered enough.

He stood and let the blood rush to his legs and feet. After a moment, when he was sure his legs wouldn’t give out on him, he dragged himself to the bathroom. The mirror revealed basically what he expected. Honey-colored hair sticking out in odd places, dark half-moons under his eyes, skin so pale it might as well be transparent. He pulled back his lips to reveal teeth stained from years of drinking black coffee. Even after he had cut most of it from his diet, the damage had been done. He ran his tongue over them so that his lips bulged, remembering that Craig did it too.

He pulled his sleeve up, just a little. He grimaced at the sight of the bite marks, now faded. The most recent, a hard clamp at his wrist, had faded to a somber purple after a long two years. Without all the constant guzzling of caffine, he slept more. And, save for last night, the sleep was better. The constant twitching and fidgeting died to the occasional probably still-too-often high-stress moments. His stuttering was practically gone.

But none of that really mattered. He shoved his arm back in his sleeve.

He brushed his teeth and stumbled back to the bedroom. The clock on his nightstand said 5:03 AM. Maybe he should try catching a few more z’s before getting up. That way he’d be able to avoid his parents’ questions on how the party that he left fifteen minutes in went. He picked up his phone, which was caught in a tornado of bedsheets and the screen lit up.

There was a text. From Craig.

i need you

Tweek stared at the little bubble on his screen like it might just disappear. Sent at 2:17 AM. Shit. Three hours late.

He sent one word: coming. After ripping his old clothes off he pulled on a pair of sweatpants (perfect for a godless Sunday), an old T-shirt, and a black hoodie with the gold letters “WCAR” in Old English font across the front. Said hoodie was a gift from Clyde on his last birthday, who had thoughtfully combined Tweek’s favorite article of clothing with one of his favorite bands. At one point, all Tweek ever got were coffee-related gifts (he secretely hated it, but accepted them with a smile anyway), namely an assortment of mugs which, along with ceramic pots, were now scattered across various surfaces in his room--the floor, his wood desk, one corner of the window sill, his bookshelf--and filled with potting soil and his collection of houseplants. Instead of mugs and thermoses, he now often got hoodies since he wore them all the time in winter and fall. They were comfty, often a bit too big, warm, and were an easy excuse to cover his arms.

Fully dressed, he jumped over his pile of sheet music that he had written. He should really finish one of them one of these days, but he was bad at endings. Craig had tried to help once by coming up with various tunes that, really, were god awful. But Tweek had been appreciative of the effort anyway.

He practically leaped down the stairs. Since the sun was starting to climb over the horizon that meant his parents would be climbing out of bed with it. He kept glancing over at the banister as he knotted the white laces on his sneakers. He partially tied the second when he heard a door creak and, without a second thought, jumped up and shot out the front door.

God, what if he got sick? Alcohol poisoning? Or if he went fucking driving, JESUS-

Fuck, it was too early for this irrational bullshit. Craig wasn’t a big drinker to begin with and he doubted that Craig would be stupid enough to go driving. And even if he was, someone would have stopped him. Token, Clyde, Red, Kenny-

Wendy.

Right. He still didn’t even know how that went. Probably not great, considering the text he got, and the fact that there was still no reply.

His legs started to get that odd tension in them, like the kind you get in your jaws after chewing gum a long time or after a quick boxing warm-up, a squeeze his muscles. In this case, run.

He took off. Since the sun had just barely come up there really weren’t many people Tweek had to dodge. His neighbors didn’t seem to pay much mind at least. Mrs. Johnson waved from her front porch and Mr. Turner nodded at him when he lumbered out the door to swipe the morning paper off his front porch.

He counted his steps but quickly lost track. Instead, he counted how many sidewalk dividers he passed. His anxiety crawled back into its little den in the back of his head.

“GO GET ‘EM TWEEKERS!”

He stumbled but managed to catch his balance. On the side of the road were Kyle and Stan (both shooting a WTF look--but not at him) in the back of Stan’s uncle’s red Ford pickup. Kenny, the source of Kyle and Stan’s bewilderment, sat cross-legged on the top, hands cupping his mouth. Tweek grimaced as he sped by and flipped him off, but he could still hear Kenny cheering even as he turned the corner.

Since South Park was a small town, it took less than five minutes for Tweek to make it back to Nichole’s at top speed. Jittery as fuck, he wiggled the doorknob to find that it was unlocked. Great, he thought. Not great, bit back his anxiety. That means anyone could have just waltzed into the house and done fuck all. Tear the place up? Go ahead. Steal everything Nichole’s parents had probably worked their lives for? Who’s gonna stop you? Take a sledgehammer to a bunch of passed out and hungover teenagers and proceed to burn the evidence? Well, don’t be shy!

Four seconds in, four seconds hold, four seconds out. It was cold enough he could see his breath puff out small clouds. Maybe it looked more like the smoke from out the nose of a dragon.

Sledgehammer murderer? Goddamn. To be fair, this was South Park.

He slipped in quietly, trying to avoid alarming any houseguests, and tiptoed down the hall. The first place he looked, the living room, had what he was searching for.

Nichole and Token were cuddled up in one of those lofty recliners with an overly fuzzy blanket no doubt from Nichole’s room tucked in on their sides. Even as worried as he was, Tweek’s brain noted they were kind of cute. Red and Clyde had the loveseat but neither were covered up. And instead of being snuggled like Nichole and Token, their heads lay at opposite ends. Craig lay face down on the sofa, half-assedly covered up with an old afghan. Tweek crouched beside him and laid a hand on his back. It rose and fell slowly.

His shoulders fell and the breath stuck in his chest escaped in a long stream. He let his hand ride the waves of air moving in and out of Craig’s lungs. His chullo had nosdived into the corner where cushion met the frame. Craig’s cheek smushed against the cushion and his mouth parted ever so slightly. Craig made this little half-snore, noticeable but soft. He smiled, fingertips brushing the hairline on the back of his neck, eyes stuck on Craig’s thin lips.

“Tweek?”

He yelped and jumped back into a standing position while twirling to the source of the voice. Token and Nichole peered at him like he shone a flashlight in their faces. Token continued, “Dude, what’re you doing here?”

“Shit!” He hissed, before letting it die slow. “Craig, uh, text me earlier...” He stood there dumbly as if that would suffice. Token said nothing. “I tried texting him, but he didn’t answer so, here I am...” Token rubbed his forehead.

“Oh, yeah... I took his phone, that’s why.”

Tweek frowned. “Why?”

Nichole giggled. “He said, more like announced, to Token and me that he was-” and here she added air quotes- “about to ruin his life.”

“What’s that mean?”

“No idea,” Token mumbled, eyes closed. “Stopped him though. He actually thanked me for stealing his phone. Stole his beer while I was at it.”

“You guys can stop talking about me whenever’s convenient.” Craig turned his face from the cushion and towards the recliner. “I’m right here.”

“Thought you were asleep.” Token’s voice dipped between a whisper and normal volume. Nichole’s fingers running through his hair probably wasn’t helping.

“All of you shut up,” Clyde grumbled, hugging Red’s legs to himself. Red tried kicking him but to no avail. She looked more pissed at her boyfriend than at the noise. “We’re trying to sleep.”

“Shut up, Donovan.” Craig pushed himself off of the sofa and into a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes. “Token, don’t fucking fall asleep with my phone hugging your ass.”

“Jesus.” Token twisted and struggled while Nichole pinned herself to her side of the recliner. A moment later he tossed the phone over to the sofa. Craig took it and glanced at it. “Five thirty? Too fuckin’ early for a Saturday.”

“Yet you keep talking.” Clyde sighed dramatically.

Tweek took a step back so Craig could stand. “Keys.”

“Dude, don’t drive.” Token rubbed his eyes.

“I’m not. Tweek is.”

“What?” Tweek crossed his arms. “Man, I didn’t agree to that!”

“Too bad, let’s roll,” he said, catching his keys before quickly tossing them to Tweek. Token covered his face with the blanket.

Nichole smiled and wiggled her fingers. “Bye boys.”

“Craig, Tweek!” Clyde called into Red’s ankles, “I love you guys!”

Tweek waved and followed Craig, silent, out the front. He got into the driver’s seat of Craig’s mom’s old silver car and, as always, immediately buckled up. Safety first. He wasn’t flying out the windshield today, that was for sure.

“Sorry.”

Craig looked at him, a mixture of sleepiness and confusion on his face. “What’re you talking about?”

“Waking you up,” he said, looking behind them as he reversed onto the street. “I saw your text and I, mh, got worried.”

Craig shrugged while Tweek shifted back into drive. “Worrying is your thing.”

His stomach cramped. “Yeah, I guess.”

Craig sat up from his leaned back seat. He was practically lying down in it before. “Actually, stop at the gas station before my house.”

Tweek didn’t ask, he just turned right instead of left and Craig leaned back again. It was quiet and Tweek felt like it was suffocating him. He didn’t mind silence itself, but the weight of the air kept increasing so he felt like he was being crushed.

“Wendy broke up with me.”

There it was.

“Oh, sorry, man...” He wasn’t sorry. And that made him feel bad, but still undeniably good. “You wanna talk about it?”

Apparently not. For the next two minutes, Craig said nothing. Probably the longest two minutes of Tweek Tweak’s life and the sensation of suffocation just got worse. A fleeting memory of him kissing Craig flashed in his mind’s eye. Fuck. Tweek pulled into the local gas station and parked near the front doors. Craig’s passenger door clicked. “You coming?”

“Nah, I’ll just stay here.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Kay. Whaddya want?”

Tweek shook his head. “Nothing.”

“My ass. You telling me you already ate this morning?”

“No.” His stomach did a triple backflip. He didn’t know if he’d manage to get breakfast to agree with him.

“I thought we could watch Alien,” Craig said, shrugging. “Who wants to watch sci-fi horror on an empty stomach?”

“Clyde, but I think it’s more of a need than a want.”

Craig grinned. Like, actually grinned. It made Tweek’s heart flutter, especially since he was the one that caused it. “Man, remember when he gagged at the chestburster?”

Craig snickered. “Token fuckin’ booked it, thought Clyde was going to vomit all over him.”

They both laughed. The pressure in Tweek’s chest subsided.

“Dude, really, what do you want?”

Tweek shrugged, suddenly aleviated from his pseudo-nasuea. “Surprise me?”

Craig nodded and shut the door. Once Craig disappeared behind the glass doors, Tweek pulled out his phone and opened up his contacts. He scrolled until he got to the Ts. He clicked on Wendy’s name.

It took him a moment. Even held his breath. This was the last thing he wanted to do. Clyde’s words from last night kept echoing on in his head. Didn’t Craig deserve to be happy? Wasn’t it kind of Tweek’s job to at least help, as designated best friend? Before he could regret it, he pressed the call button and the screen went dark except for Wendy’s name. Holding it up to his ear, he took another slow breath.

A click.

“Hello?” Wendy mumbled. Shit, right, it wasn’t even six yet.

“Uh, Wendy?” he said like a dumbass. Obviously it was her.

“...Tweek?” Her voice perked. He heard someone else in the background. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, ngh, everything’s fine-” he said, peering through the windows for any sign of Craig. “I just... I wanted to ask you for, uh, a favor.”

“Um, okay...”

“I know I don’t really have a, uh, a right to ask you this...” he mumbled, now picking at loose frays of thread at the seams of his blue sweatpants. “I was wondering if you’d give Craig another chance?”

“...What?”

He didn’t say anything initially because, well, he didn’t know what to say. He thought his request was pretty simple to understand the first time around. “I was wondering if you’d-”

“No, I heard you the first time.” Alright, great. Why the fuck did she ask “what?” for then? “I’m just...”

“Huh?” He watched one of the small threads tear and finally come out of the seam. He tried to flick it off his fingers, but it stubbornly stuck to his skin.

“Have you talked to Craig at all since last night?”

“Yeah.”

“And he doesn’t know you’re calling.” A statement rather than a question. He answered it nonetheless.

“Right.”

“Tweek, I’m not getting back together with Craig.” Before he could at least try to protest, she continued. “I think you should sit down and talk to him.”

Tweek frowned, designating the pesky stuck thread a lost cause and pulling at the stitch holding the seams together. “What?”

“Listen, Craig- Bebe!”

He heard something; he wasn’t quite sure what. A mixture of static and the rush of air.

“Tweek?” another voice asked. Even if they didn’t talk much, he still recognized it as Bebe’s. Wendy barked something in the background.

“Uh, yeah...”

“Listen, let’s cut the bullshit. You’re gay as fuck for Craig.” She was out of breath and he heard the stomping of feet. “Just do all these bitches a favor and tell him you’re crushing hard.”

“PHONE. NOW.”

“I’m just telling him to put on his big boy pants.”

“I don’t like Craig!” Tweek snapped.

“Really, bitch? Nichole and I got your number back in middle school. It’s ridiculous you’ve held out this long.” She was still panting, and he was pretty sure he heard a door swing open. The sudden sound of wind drowned her voice. “Holy shit I’m gonna die.”

He pulled loose the threads and silently cursed at himself as he listened to Bebe run for her life. Why did he insist on ruining his clothes like this?

“Tweek?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell Craig you’re head over heels for him already.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, silly, fuck Craig.”

His teeth creaked as he ground them. “Craig’s not even gay!”

For a while there was only the sound of Bebe’s lungs reaching their limit. He could still hear Wendy, though barely, but it sounded like she was pleading instead of demanding. “Tweek,” Bebe said, out of breath, “listen to me. You need to get some, oh fuck I can’t breathe... self confidence-”

The passenger door popped open. Tweek yelped and Bebe mimicked him. He ended the call after fumbling with the phone. His head swiveled to see Craig who had clearly witnessed his little freak out.

“Asshole!” he spit, clutching his chest. “You scared me!”

“By opening the door?” Craig cocked an eyebrow and slid into the seat. He gave the bag a once over and then tossed it behind them. “Who was that?”

“My dad,” Tweek said, heart beginning to slow. “I told him I was going to your house.”

“Mhm.”

“I did!” Tweek insisted, twisting the keys in the ignition.

“I believe you.” He didn’t. Tweek knew that. But Craig probably wasn’t interested in prying, which he was grateful for.

Tweek pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road to Craig’s house. When they turned on fifth street, about half a mile, if that, from the gas station, they saw two girls. Barely dressed and in the cold, they walked down the sidewalk, bare feet padding along the concrete. He wanted to die.

“Should, ngh, we give them a ride?” he asked, when he realized Craig had noticed them too.

Craig shook his head. “Nah. If there’s a puddle, splash them.”

“I didn’t take you for the bitter type,” he snorted. There wasn’t a puddle. Dry as a bone on this street.

“I’m not bitter. Couldn’t care less,” Craig said, flipping the two hikers off as they drove past. Wendy looked annoyed and Bebe waved.. “I just thought it’d be funny.”

As Craig watched his ex and her best friend shriek and laugh at a sudden blast of cold air, Tweek stole a look. The light hit his face so that it threw a shadow across his cheeks, below the crests of his eyes. The bridge of his narrow nose reflected soft light . As he sat there, he couldn’t help to think that, god, they were juniors already. There were only a handful of these moments left and then they’d be graduated and move away and drift apart and they’d forever be out of each other’s lives. Time was flying and Tweek found himself agonizing over every second, mourning each minute that passed, afraid of inevitably losing his best friend to their futures. Craig would move on first, he’d find acquaintances that would soon turn into friens. Tweek would too. He’d hate it, some part of him would always miss Craig, but he’d move on. He didn’t want to. Craig turned from the side to the front.

“TWEEK!”

“SHIT!” Tweek jerked back on his side of the road, Mr. Stotch honking his horn and looking cross. Tweek waved meekly in apology, never stopping the string of curse words under his breath. His heart couldn’t take much more of this shit. “Fuck. Sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Craig said quickly. His hand was still firmly on the handle just above the passenger window. “Maybe you need a nap.”

“I’m good, I just...” He shook his head, swallowing. “Just wasn’t paying attention.”

Craig didn’t answer.

Eventually, they rolled up to the Tucker household. A simple two-story that pretty much looked like everyone else’s house. Thomas still had his anti-drone sticker plastered on the master bedroom’s window. That was probably the only distinctive feature on Craig’s house. Everything else, like the Tucker family in general, was under the radar. Tweek parked in front on the side of the street, despite the empty driveway. “Where’re your parents?”

Craig shrugged. “Beats me.”

Tweek got out after fetching the bag in the back, following Craig up the drive. He placed the keys into Craig’s palm so he could unlock the front door. The living room matched Tweek’s bedroom in terms of chaos. Tricia was sprawled out on the sofa, her hair splayed across its arm, and both her right leg and arm hanging off the side. Karen McCormick took the recliner, swaddled in a blanket, dozing peacefully in the left crook. A buffet of junk food littered the coffee table with bottles of sweet tea and lemonade strewn throughout the mess and across the floor.

Craig slammed the door.

Karen’s eyes fluttered momentarily, but Tricia sat straight up like Dracula out of his coffin, both middle fingers raised as if she’d been awake and waiting for Craig to do something to piss her off. Craig flipped her off as both he and Tweek climbed the stairs, Tricia mouthing “fuck you” until they were out of sight.

Anyone that entered Craig’s bedroom for the first time would never believe it belonged to a teenaged boy. It was just too goddamn tidy. People who didn’t know Craig all that well and got a peek at his room ended up thinking Mrs. Tucker was some sort of neat freak who cleaned her kids’ bedrooms. Nope. But she did go around the house spraying Febreze on anything that so much looked like fabric so that the whole house smelled like it was doused in perfume. Anytime Tweek walked in, the spicy itch of the scent clean linen assaulted his nose.

Tweek sat on the bed, watching as Craig fetched his laptop off his desk and Alien from the shelf. While Craig got the movie ready, Tweek unpacked the plastic bag. Chips, soda, and some premade cold cut sandwiches. All part of a healthy and nutritious breakfast, no doubt. He set the roast beef on Craig's side along with his potato chips. Tweek knew that the turkey sandwich and cheddar-flavored chips were his, partly because it was what he usually got anyway and he knew what Craig usually got.

Finally, Craig flopped down onto the bed, his ass narrowly missing his food. Tweek tugged at the sheets and pulled up an opening to scoot under. Then Craig set the laptop between their legs and pressed play. Tweek handed him his sprite, which he tucked away at his side. Tweek grabbed his hand.

"Jesus! Your hand feels like ice!" Tweek screeched, petting down to his arm which, like his hands, felt like giant popsicles. "So are your arms!"

"Yeah, it's pretty damn cold," Craig said, pulling up the covers with his free hand and keeping the laptop in place with his foot. Mr. Tucker was a big fan of utility savings. So in late autumn and winter, the Tucker household may as well fling open all of the windows.

Luckily, Tweek never got cold. When he used to play barbarian in the dead of winter, it wasn't uncommon for him to run around without a shirt. Being the human furnace that he was, Tweek tried warming Craig's hands. He wrapped one hand around Craig's fingers and the other around the palm, squeezing the blood around. He breathed hot air onto the skin before realizing that what he was doing was pretty fucking weird.

"Sorry-" he said. Craig watched him, eyes kind of distant, soft even. His heart skipped a beat. "Craig?"

"Huh?" Craig blinked his eyes back into focus. "Oh, whatever."

He released Craig's hand. With the pre-movie bullshit over, they settled into the pillows squeezed behind them and the headboard. They ate in silence as the movie started. By now they could probably divi up the roles and recite the lines word for word. They had to have watched it well over twenty times together. The familiar opening scene played, with the crew waking up from hypersleep to investigate a distress signal. Required by contract, which Tweek would have crossed out before signing, just saying. 

Their food didn't last long. Tweek had been up long enough for his stomach to start griping, growling and grumbling until he finally satisfied it. Apparently drinking the night before hadn't deterred Craig's appetite, but he'd probably hadn't drunk that much anyways. 

i need you

Drunk enough to send that text. Drunk enough to almost ruin his life, apparently. What the hell had Wendy told him anyways? How was Craig close to ruining his own life?

He felt the mattress bounce as Craig shuffled under the sheets, slumping into the pillows. Tweek sipped at his Dr. Pepper and settled back too, placing his drink on the floor. Their shoulders brushed. He ignored the sudden panicky thoughts that blipped around in his brain and focused on Ripley’s dialogue arguing that they needed to follow proper quarantine procedure.

"Kind of pisses me off that one dumbass gets everyone killed," Craig said, screwing the cap on his drink and setting it aside. He stretched his shoulders and his right arm fell behind Tweek's head. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Tweek said. He leaned into it, just a bit.

“Imagine being able to travel through space but not have enough common sense not to get infected in the dumbest way possible.”

He laughed. "You always say that."

"Because you always laugh at it," Craig noted, a wisp of a smile appearing on his face.

Tweek tried to stuff the last of his bleating down his throat. "Sorry."

"Why?" Whatever hint of a smile Craig may have had disappeared. "I say it to make you laugh."

His heart thumped and his arms and ears pricked with heat. His green eyes met Craig's gray. "Yeah?"

For a moment, the only noise came from the movie and the chirping of birds. Then Craig nodded. "Yeah."

Craig's gaze fell but just a bit and only for a moment before they locked back onto his. Tweek found it hard to swallow, stuck on Craig's eyes, left wondering by the way Craig looked at him. He finally understood what people meant when they said time slows. Everything caught his attention, each distinct feature on Craig’s face, every move he made, and every sensation that followed. He felt delightfully dizzy, sliding further into a hypnosis like his back slid down the curve of the pillows to rest on the mattress below.

Craig's breath brushed across his face, the smell of alcohol a whisper behind the smell of sprite. The arm that had rested behind him now supported Craig’s upper body beside him. Each motion felt like a lifetime even if they couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Their noses brushed coyly and it made his head slosh. Craig’s soft lips brushed against his own chapped pair, just the lightest of touches, fluttering across the cracks in his skin like butterfly wings. They moved back, this time landing firmer. His hands snaked behind Craig’s back at the waist, clinging as if it may keep him afloat while he drowned beneath Craig, who hovered above him. Something between a whimper and a sigh throttled in Tweek’s throat.

He felt Craig’s heart throbbed close to his. Their lips broke apart but only so they could start all over again. And again. And again. And again. Mind foggy, he found himself moving in time with Craig, like a makeshift dance, as they swung from first kisses to something more urgent.

The sound of air being cut and the resulting breeze whipped across the bed as the bedroom door flung open. "HEY FUGLY-" Tricia stopped as they both recoiled from each other. "Holy shit, that was gay as fuck!"

She was still in her pajamas, an old gray t-shirt and a pair of purple plaid lounge pants. Karen's head was just barely visible in the doorway, her eyes wide and both of her hands clamped along the lower half of her face which oddly mirrored Tweek. Tricia eyes were wide, but, in classical Tucker fashion, just barely. "Are you guys dating?"

"Tricia," Craig started, voice dropping an octave and bristling, "out. Now." 

For the first time since coming over to Craig's (which had to be back when they were nine or so), Tweek actually witnessed Tricia listening to her older brother and watched her shut the door. He kept his eyes on the doorknob for a moment. Free from the trance he fell under, panic began to set in. Visions of his nightmare flashed behind his closed lids. Dread sunk into his stomach and the white-hot heat of fear set his neck ablaze. When he looked back, Craig's head rested in his right hand with his elbow jabbed into his leg. Tweek forced himself to let go of the sheet he was pulling before he tore it. His fingers twitched. 

The sudden onslaught of noise as the chestburster appeared finally forced Craig to move and immediately pause the video. Even the birds stayed silent. Tweek watched him, jaw clenched tight enough to make his temples ache. Swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, Craig rose and mumbled, "Why'd you let me do that..."

The lump in his throat ached. Craig rounded the bed, opened the door, and left.

What the hell was all of that? What just fucking happened?

Once again, the air in the room whirred past the bed as the door swung open, but this time with Craig at the knob instead of his sister. He swung the door closed behind him, face blank, eyes on Tweek with Tweek staring back.

Silence. Then, "Why'd you let me do that?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I... don't know."

"Don't lie to me." Craig's eyes were hard, cold, and Tweek couldn't stop himself from flinching. His nightmare, hazy as the memory may be, came rushing back. Fuck, the one time the universe watched out for him and he didn’t even listen. "Tweek."

“Fuck you!” Tweek hissed. “You’re the one that kissed me! I should be the one asking the questions!”

Craig was quiet, face never changing. He was so hard to read now and Tweek wondered if that was purposeful or if he himself was too tired and/or he was too distracted to catch anything. Craig sucked in air. “Okay. Shoot.”

He stuffed his hands into his front pocket, cross-legged, watching Craig who didn’t bother to move an inch. “What did you and Wendy talk about last night?”

Rubbing his chin, Craig shrugged. “Mostly why she thought we wouldn’t work. She said that it was me, not her.”

“What’s that mean?” he asked.

“She wanted me to talk to you,” Craig continued, ignoring the second question. He sat down on the edge of the bed, turning so they could face each other. “So, let’s talk.”

“About?” he asked, eyes trained on him warily.

“Us.” Craig’s lips bulged with his tongue. “Why’d you let me kiss you?”

“Why’d you kiss me?” he supplied, shrinking away. “You’re straight, aren’t you?”

Craig’s eyes hit the floor. “I dunno, dude. I just... I guess not. I don’t know.”

That wasn’ the response he wanted. Tweek stared at his fingertips, eyes tracing along the ridges of his fingerprints. “Even if you aren’t,” he blurted, unable to stop himself, “why kiss me?”

Without missing a beat, Craig replied, “Because I like you.”

His eyes tore from his hand to Craig’s face. He searched for any sign that this was a prank, that Token and Clyde would jump out of the closet with a video camera and Jimmy would roll out from under the bed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if I’m gay, straight, bi, what the fuck ever,” Craig said, cheeks turning the color of peaches in autumn. “I just know that I like you. Maybe...” He stopped for a moment. “Love you.” Craig’s lungs deflated in a long stream. “There. Said it. Fuck you.”

He stared at his fingers, picking at the skin that was peeling from the dropping temperatures. His stomach churned. He couldn’t be happier. He couldn’t feel worse. “Don’t say that.”

Craig slumped, his brows furrowed. Probably the most emotion he’d shown since the drive. “Why the hell not?”

“’Cause.” He shook his head, lips pursing. Biting off a hangnail, he absentmindedly tugged his sleeve at the wrist. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tweek.” Craig grabbed his wrist, no doubt to get his attention. It worked. He was suddenly staring back into gray, the color of clouds before a thunderstorm. His eyes were clear, but the look in them was something old, ancient, like he might be an immortal who’d seen centuries worth of stories. The term “old soul” came to mind, but he didn’t think that accurately described Craig. Or maybe it did. He’d heard that the older you get, the less you give a fuck. And if there was one person in South Park that couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck, it was Craig Tucker.

“Why me?” he blurted.

“What do you mean?” Craig asked.

“What the fuck, Craig?” He hopped onto his feet. Was Craig really making fun of him? “You know what I mean. There isn’t anything about me that’s worth it.”

Craig snorted, “That’s a fucking joke.”

He practically snarled. “Something funny, asshole?”

“Yeah, you.” Craig rolled his eyes and turned his attention to his laptop which had gone to sleep. Craig tapped the space bar so that it whirred back to life. He paused. “If one of us isn’t ‘worth it’ it’s me, not you.” Craig looked back at him, turning his body about halfway.

He stared back at him and, for a moment, all he could hear were the songs of birds and the laptop shaking itself awake. “You’re an idiot.”

Craig smiled, just a bit. “Yeah? And you’re the most talented kid in our class.” Craig twisted to face him all the way around, sitting near the foot of the bed while he sat at the head. “You know how to write and play music. Show me a sheet and I think it’s all gibberish. You’ve got a fucking garden in your bedroom and if I even look at a flower the wrong way it dies. You box. You’re good at it. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be put in the ring with you. You can not ever had make something, glance over a recipe, and fucking whip up a five star meal. Tweek, you’re fucking amazing.”

He felt like he’d been swept up into the stormclouds in Craig’s eyes, whirling around in his own thoughts. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Craig’s shoulders sagged again and his eyes narrowed in a way that made him look confused. “Tweek, what the fuck are you talking about?”

He tucked the sleeve under the hooks of his fingers. He felt sick but he tugged the sleeve down anyway. Craig didn’t look confused anymore.

Well, he did, but now it was accompanied by something else that Tweek couldn’t quite place. Almost immediately, Craig grasped his wrist and it took everything in Tweek not to jerk his arm away. Instead he let Craig study the dark marks dotting his pale skin, waiting for Craig to say something, anything. Craig’s eyebrows were still knitted together, mouth open just a bit as his eyes skimmed over his arms. His fingers massaged the marks like they might rub off but it only made Tweek’s muscles tingle. After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice quiet. “What are these?”

“Bite marks.” He wanted his arm back, but Craig was still looking. He wished he wasn’t still looking. “I did it in middle school, just... Sometimes everything was too much and...” Craig watched him, face actually full of emotion, but none that Tweek wanted to see. “I don’t do it anymore,” he rushed. It didn’t alleviate the look and that made him naseous.

“So, all those times you wouldn’t take off your sweatshirt or go swimming?” Craig rubbed his skin like he was trying to erase them.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Craig said after a moment.

He shrugged. “I, uh.” A pause. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tried again. “You already helped a lot and I didin’t want to bother you anymore. And I didn’t want people to think I was crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” Craig said.

He snatched said arm back. “I know that!” Covering his arm with the sleeve, his skin relished under the protection from the cold of the room. “It’s just, it’s stupid.” He crossed his arms just under his chest. “I think back on it and realize how stupid it was. And I knew it was stupid then too but I couldn’t help it and now I’ve got these to show for it because I’m a mess and always will be,” he said, flinging his arms out then hugging them back.

Craig moved in one swift motion. Tweek instinctively tried to yank himself back, but stopped when he felt Craig encircle him. He paused and leaned into the hug, balancing his forehead on Craig’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. And you’re not a mess. I mean, you are, but not in a bad way.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled into Craig’s collarbone. He felt a little lighter.

“And stop fucking worrying if you’re going to bother me. And start talking to me” Craig said.

“Only if you promise to start talking to me,” Tweek said.

“Deal.” Craig pulled back to look at him and turned their hug into a half-hug to offer his pinky. “Pinky swear?”

Tweek snorted and hooked Craig’s little finger with his own. “Pinky swear.”

Craig smiled for the second time that morning. With the silver light from the window bathing them both, Tweek thought it might be the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. He didn’t care that it sounded corny; it was true.

“You really thought you were too boring to go out with me?” Tweek asked as they plopped back down on the bed.

“Uh, yeah. What the fuck do I do that’s interesting?”

“Craig.” Tweek rolled his eyes. “You want to be an astronaut.”

“Yeah, want. Not currently an astronaut, just another slave to science hoping for a one-in-a-million chance like everyone else.”

“Well,” Tweek said, now pulling off his hoodie to toss it off to the side and sneak back under the covers. “I think you’re interesting.”

Craig followed after him and restarted the movie. Craig slid his arm underneath his shoulders and it made Tweek’s stomach flip, but in a good way. “Thanks.”

They both stayed quiet, comfortably snuggled against each other as the beginning of the horror played out in front of them. Tweek closed his eyes and let the script flow into his ears, backed up by the steady beat of Craig’s heart.

“Blows my mind that they can be so smart and yet stupid enough to let a killer alien on the ship.”

Tweek laughed.

 


End file.
